Rekindle: An Emotional Compromise
by paletalewriter
Summary: This story takes place after Star Trek: Beyond. What I think might've happened between Spock and Uhura after the credits rolled and the mission continued. It's cute, it's sexy, it's short and sweet. Let me know what you think :)


**I don't know if this is going to be a one shot or not, but let me know what you guys think. I just sort of sat down and wrote it after the last Star Trek movie came out. I like to think their rekindling after the movie went something like this :)**

 **Cheers!**

The mission was stressful. More so than the previous missions. The few days after an exceptionally long and messy trip, the paperwork is always stacked high. Uhura pulls the tie from her hair and let it tumble down onto her shoulders, a headache settling in next to her left temple. She scribbles her signature for the hundredth time, the reports building up on the desk, yet there are still so many to go through.

The sound of someone typing in the code for the secured door causes the Lieutenant to look up, her eyes strained and sore and her back aching from hunching over the dim workspace.

The heavy door slides open loudly and Spock glides in, his hands behind his back; his casual black uniform in place. Only someone who knows him well would notice the signs of fatigue. The tightness around his eyes, subtle slant of his broad shoulders, the way his long strides have turned into slower, shallower steps.

He doesn't see her at first, and she briefly contemplates hiding under the desk, until she decides it's ridiculous and childish (and he'd probably hear her anyways.)

Instead, she stares at him as he makes his way to his station, opening his desk drawer with his thumb print and pullings it open.

Nyota shifts slightly in her chair and Spock starts (she'd never startled him before; this being one more sign that these past few weeks have taken a serious toll on everyone, even him.)

"Lieutenant," he says, his voice full of surprise. His right hand going to his side casually, though she knows his heart jumps whenever he's startled, and he always grabs at his side the way a human would grab at their chest in shock.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she sits up straighter, always trying to mirror his perfect posture.

"It's alright." he quickly assures her, though his eyebrows pull together slightly and there's immediate tension in the room. It fills up the space, and makes it feel as if they are in much closer quarters than they are.

Uhura takes a breath, opens her mouth, then closes it.

Spock glances down at the files in his hands, and then at the open draw he's just retrieved them from, then back at the nervous Lieutenant.

"I hope you are in good health. I'm aware that a large number of the crew has come down with a rather aggressive virus. Something Doctor Bones believes was picked up in Yorktown. Everyone there has been vaccinated for the specific germ rotation in their atmosphere. Given our sudden and unplanned visit, the virus seems to have escaped using Pavel Chekov's immune system, and has since spread to the crew."

"I see." Nyota nods, clasping her hands in her lap, "Thank you, yes, I'm perfectly healthy."

"Good." Spock nods, glancing down at the files once more. They outline the plans for his probable future on New Vulcan. Case studies and statistics, things he will need to know to take over the work there.

However, _now_ suddenly seems like an insufficient time to discuss such things. The last time the two had spoken of the idea, it had lead to them both becoming extremely emotional. She had told him that she no longer felt comfortable being in a relationship with him, with the likelihood of it coming to an end in the near future; and the thought of no longer encountering personally and intimately with her had caused an ache in the pit of Spock's stomach that had never quite gone away. (He'd asked Bones what it could be, but the man never gave a serious answer.)

Spock takes another moment, as Uhura shifts quietly in her chair. He then lowers the documents, and places them back into the drawer; decided that he would rather converse with her, then do work. He doesn't want to spoil this rare moment of privacy.

"I'd forgotten." He starts, knowing that his open comment would be accompanied by questions. He'd learned it from her. Sometimes you don't always have to say everything you want to and mean to say right away.

She looks up from her hands, the sadness seeping through her eyes she presses her lips together.

"What?"

He closed the drawer slowly, leaning into his desk behind him, finding it difficult to look at her eyes. Her emotions swim directly on the surface and he finds it uncharacteristically unnerving.

"I'd forgotten how quiet my life was before I met you." He clarifies, his voice sounding loud in the otherwise silent room. She raises her eyebrows and he rethinks his choice of words. "Mundane." he corrects. "I noticed it last night. When I went to my room, and you were not there."

Uhura blinks, her voice lost in her shock. She hasn't heard him speak so plainly about his affections in so long. "I haven't been there in weeks." she whispers, afraid that if she speaks too loudly, she might disrupt the peaceful bubble they've created.

"I am aware of your prolonged absence," he nods, "However last night was the only night since then that I had nothing to keep me company. No work to take with me to focus my thoughts on." He finally puts his eyes towards her, immediately becoming locked into her focused gaze. "You were gone, and all I could do was notice your absence."

The silence stretches out between them. He's said the words he's wanted to say, and has nothing to do other than wait for her reply.

She says nothing.

Instead, she stands up, flattening her uniform with her hands as she takes a few cautious steps towards him.

"Spock-"

"Nyota," He nearly sighs, his voice has an edge of desperation that he's not comfortable or familiar with. Like a man dying of thirst in the desert who's just spotted a lake in the distance.

"Are you saying that you miss me?" She asks, her voice smooth and soft, the sadness still evident in her eyes.

"I am." Spock nods once, no other words seeming to come to his mind. "I have."

She crosses her arms gently and bites her cheek; and his eyes fluttering to her figure, so quickly that she misses it. His hands itch as his human side longs to reach out and embrace her, like all the times before. He's missed how it feels to be close to her. So close that there's no movement she can make that he won't also feel.

But there's more. These past few weeks have caused him to retreat back into himself. People have noticed the cool exterior he's re-adopted since the termination of their intimate relationship. He paces, unsure of his place. He's agitated and impatient. And people have begun to notice the change.

"I know how you feel." she nods, looking down at her shoes, and against Spock's will, hope begins to blossom in his chest. "But nothing has changed." She continues, and sorrow back in her voice. "We still want different things. I want you to be here, with me. I want a life with you…" She won't look at him, and this makes it very difficult to read her. He tries to catch her eye, but she makes it impossible.

"That's kind of impossible when you live on a different planet." her words are becoming sharp, they prick at his skin and he actually begins to fidget. " _Re-populating_ it."

With this the Lieutenant's shoulders sag, her posture defeated. She walks towards the tall cupboard of emergency uniforms, and presses her back up against the cool metal doors, allowing her knees to give out, she slowly lowers herself to the flood, her legs stretched out in front of her.

Spock folds his hands and glances towards his desk drawer.

"I confess it has been tempting to return to my previous home, and continue the work that Ambassador Spock left incomplete. I've felt a strong sense of duty to my kind to join them in re-establishing our species-"

"I know Spock, I understand it." she says, looking up at him from her place on the floor, her eyes begging him to stop talking. "I just don't like it."

He hates displeasing her. Her unhappiness bothers him more than he'd be comfortable admitting.

Unsure of why she insists on sitting on the unsanitary floor, he reluctantly follows suit (if only to be closer to her.) He takes a seat in the space next to her, leaning against the doors of the closet, resting his arms on his knees in front of him.

"I, confess," he says, quieter now that they are so near to each other. "I have begun to dislike the idea as well. Partly due to the fact that this mission has reminded me of my commitment to Starfleet in a way that I had previously forgotten. I've rediscovered my purpose on the ship, and am looking forward to the years ahead with more curiosity and excitement than I thought possible."

She nods, but her heart is in her throat and she can't form words around it.

"And," he continues, his voice getting even quieter. She turns towards him, and he's looking at his hands. The dim light of the bridge, the low hum of the computers and the mild vibration of the ship's engines; she watches as his human side fights to push through his stone-cold Vulcan mask. The tension in his jaw telling the story of the struggle it is to express himself through words.

"It has become apparent to me," he's speaking slowly and so carefully. Each word chosen with precision. "That I will never be fully content, unless you are present in each day of my life. Since the termination of our romantic relationship, it has become painfully clear that most of my joy stemmed from my ability to enjoy your presence on a casual and non-professional basis-"

"Spock…" Uhura says, pulling his mind back to the present.

"I cannot begin to express my regrets regarding the conversation we had when you told me I'd disappointed you with my decision to leave. Your pain has haunted me since and Nyota please know that if Starfleet's Time-Port-Recount mechanism was in sufficient working condition I would go back to that day-"

Nyota reaches her hand across the space between them, and places her hand on his jaw, turning his face towards hers just as her lips close the distance between them.

The pent up energy that has weighed both of them down for weeks seems to unravel in this one kiss. She feels Spock's tension melt under her touch, and she smiles into the kiss. She's missed the way that she can make him unwind. His harsh posture and and cool exterior don't have any place in moments like this. She leans into him, shifting her position on the floor so that her body is angled towards him.

Although her hands are now both on his neck and in his hair, his remain rested on his knees, his politeness winning out to his human desires. His heart begins to beat faster, his mind buzzing with electricity.

He pulls away slightly, putting enough space between them that he can look into her eyes in the dim light of the glowing consoles around them.

"Forgive me Nyota, I'm afraid my mind is too disarranged at the moment to come to a conclusion without your assurance. I've understood that according to your actions, that your desires match up with my own. However, I've been mistaken in the past and do not wish to upset you in any way." He's speaking in his usual, serious tone of voice; although his breath is shallower than usual. Giving away his excitement. "If you wish me not to be with you intimately, I ask that you tell me now, for in a few moments I'm unsure of my ability to control my impulses."

"Spock," She says, and he stops speaking, knowing he's saying far too much. She sits up straighter and pivots towards him in order to look him right in the eye. "Please don't overthink this and drive yourself crazy."

With that, Spock nods, and his hands go to her waist. Lifting her with ease, in one short moment she's in his lap, her hands on his shoulders and their mouths connected in another passionate kiss, only this time; he's not a statue.

When her hands fall to the hem of this uniform jacket, his hands capture hers, holding them in an unrelenting vise.

She opens her eyes, confused by his hesitation.

"I'm afraid I can't allow myself to to reconcile this way," he says, his breathing uneven, though the rest of him seems more than in control. "If you would allow me Uhura," he continues, his voice low and gentle. "To walk you to your door, and say goodnight." He finishes.

Uhura blinks, slowing her breathing and leaning away slightly.

"Always the gentleman." she sighs, flipping her hair over her shoulder, she looks him in the eyes. "Of course you can walk me." she nods, and offers him a small smile.

He takes this opportunity to stand from his place on the floor and fix the front of his uniform. And then reaches down and offers his hand to the Lieutenant. She takes it and pulls herself close to his side, walking quickly and in silence out of the bridge and into the nearly empty hallways.

Only the footsteps of distant officers making their ways to their dorms, and the low murmurs of late night conversations seem to be left in the entire ship. It's almost cozy when it's like this. The lights are dimmed to a low pink glow, to improve sleep patterns and cause the brain to recognize the signal of night time, which isn't normally so easily achieved in outer space.

"Goodnight," a young officer nods to both Uhura and Spock as she passes by.

"Goodnight," Uhura smiles and Spock nods in return.

The short walk to the Lieutenants now private quarters is mostly silent. Uhura steals a few glances at Spock as he makes the familiar turns to her dorm, following the long hallways until they come to a stop in front of her door.

"Thank you for walking me," she sighs, turning towards him and looking up at him under her lashes.

He doesn't let go of her hand, and she wouldn't've let him if he tried.

"Of course," he nods, glancing around the empty hallway, the overwhelming feeling of not wanting to let her go inside and leave him alone in the hallway. He knows he will lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling and counting the moments until it is socially acceptable for him to see her once again.

She lifts herself up on the balls of her feet and he meets her halfway, deepening the kiss that she offers him. His mouth soft against her parted lips, her small hands still clasped in his.

"I should let you sleep," he says against her mouth as her hands guide his hands to her body, heat creeping up his neck and muddling his last clear thoughts as his fingers press into her hips. He feels the remnants of his restraint go up in smoke and float down the hallway; along with his gentlemanly intentions.

"You should come inside," she replies simply, her hands falling down his chest and abdomen.

"Alright," he answers so quickly that she giggles against his lips, and he shakes his head. He knows she's laughing at him, but at the moment it doesn't bother him. He's too distracted, his nerves too alive to care. She turns her head to put her key in the door and unlock it, and his head falls to her shoulder; his mouth on her neck.

She opens the door and he gathers a handful of her uniform at her hip, allowing her to lead him into the dorm. Her thumbs hooking into the waist of his pants as he closes the door behind them; and when her fingers find the hem of his shirt, he doesn't stop her.

 **Sorry for any grammar errors! Review and let me know what you think :)**


End file.
